Stay
by HalosMadeOfSummer
Summary: "Kurt!" "Yes?" I called back hopefully, rubbing my reddened nose on the sleeve of my jumper before turning around. I tried to focus. The sight looked so poetic, a dark, lonely man standing in a world of flawless white. The wind started to pick up, and whirls of snow getting into the building, like waves lapping onto a shore. Eventually, Blaine sighed. "Sleep well, Kurt."
1. Chapter 1

There was a knock at the door. I turned abruptly and tea splashed from my mug onto my hands like a prickling tongue of fire. I inhaled through my teeth as I quickly went to the door, my head swirling. Some niggling sensation at the back of my mind told me that I was crazy answering the door in my pajamas at that late hour. There came another knock: short and percussive. Not urgent, but more impatient than the last.

"Coming!" I shouted irritably. My hand reached for the doorknob and it swung open with a squeak of complaint.

"Blaine?" His form was dark in contrast to the poorly-lit hallway outside my flat and his dark curly mass of hair was in disarray. The swing of the door brought a sudden waft of stale odor, no doubt, alcohol, punctuated by the rich smell of his leather jacket. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall, his shoulders hunched.

"Blaine?" I said, placing a hand on the center of his chest, pushing him upright like some kid's ragdoll. "Are you drunk?"

"I couldn't... Kurt, I… I had to…" His mouth struggled around the words, his eyes scrunching as he tried to focus. How in the world did he even make it in and out of the elevator? I folded my arms around his chest and tried to drag him to somewhere he couldn't hurt himself. I grunted as he tripped and all his weight fell towards me. He caught himself on my shoulders, his prickly cheek against the side of my mouth. Blaine's drunken breath whispered past my ear, tickling the most delicate nerves in my system.

"Kurt…" he moaned. I was fighting off a shiver as his soft mouth made contact with my collarbone. My brain was spinning and it hurt to keep my eyes open. Why can't everything just stop spinning for a second?

"Blaine," I said softer, with less authority. I could feel my muscles grow weak as my willpower crumbled away. My arm was folded between us and my palm was against his beating heart. I used that leverage to shift his weight and by some maneuver he landed on the couch with a soft _whoosh_.

"I _had_ to… My…" He was still mumbling, slurring his words. He was trying to balance on the edge of the couch like he was going to fall off. I had to do something. I sat opposite him on the floor, my hands on his knees.

"Listen to me. Blaine, listen," I looked into his dark eyes, perfect reflections of my troubled face.

"Why are you here? How did you get here? I thought you were going home after the party," His face came closer, his eyes shadowed by dark eyebrows. Our foreheads met with a soft graze of skin and I smelt his alcohol-laden breath. My breathing became shallow as a strange warm feeling came sneaking up from my stomach.

"I couldn't keep…. I couldn't," He couldn't get his words out in an urgent attempt to tell me… something.

"Couldn't what?" Our breath mixed together in a fusion of sweet and sour, making the hairs on my forearms stand to attention like a small army of keratin soldiers.

"Couldn't keep away… from you, Kurt. I…" His voice trailed off again, his eyes pulling away from my gaze, his head sinking to my shoulder. What was I doing? My thoughts were too slow to react, my brain panicking but my body just sitting there.

"I want you… so bad," His eyes were locked back on mine, those big eyes. His brow was furrowed and his eyes filled with drunken tears. Drunk. He's drunk. People always talk crap when they're drunk.

"I… need you, Kurt," He was toppling towards me, breaths coming in rasps. As he fought to stay awake, I fought my urge to kiss him. Kiss him? Wait, what? This is Blaine, he's just my friend and he's drunk. Even if I did feel for him that way, I couldn't take advantage of him like that. I pushed him backwards, a sturdy palm on his chest and he collapsed sideways on the couch. Without letting my brain interfere, I grabbed an extra blanket from the closet and hastily threw it over the lump on _my_ sofa. In _my_ living room… in _my_ apartment. What the hell had just happened? I knew one thing for sure; that kid's gonna have a hell of a hangover.


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine dreamed. Blazes and sparks of light swirled through his slow brain. Flashes of images from the party; drum beats travelling through the floor and into the soles of his shoes. Rachel, across from him, their hands entwined as he twirled her around. He could smell the soft scent of her hair as it whipped around. A moment of disorientation and Rachel turned into his father. His father, at home now, facing him with a disbelieving glare and raising his arm in slow motion with his fingers outstretched. The image changed just before the blow hit him. Rachel, standing at the bar, a diluted drink in her hand and her eyes fixed on a tall dark haired boy standing near her. Rachel, telling him that the dark haired boy is driving her home, her fingers twirling in a mocking goodbye wave. Then, his father again, slamming the front door in his face, spitting abuse. Through all these, though, flickers of a porcelain face and his small upturned nose that wrinkled when he laughed. Another flash and his brows were upturned, concern in his eyes. He was telling him something, but he couldn't hear what he was saying. His hair looked golden in the artificial backlight. Blaine couldn't help but compare him to an angel. It was Kurt. He knew it was Kurt. His brain was infected with Kurt, in his waking moments as well as his sleeping ones. If only he were with him now.

"Kurt…" Blaine was mumbling under his breath. No, not just mumbling. He was mumbling my name. He must have drunk more than I thought. I should stop being so creepy watching him sleep, I thought. I went to get dressed. Easiest part of the day. My wardrobe opened with a waft of the scent of washed laundry. What was I going to do with Blaine? I've got class this afternoon; I pondered as I picked out some skinny jeans and a brown woolly vest. Bow tie? No, my brain was too muddled already. Putting a tight piece of fabric around my neck would only make me more uncomfortable. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a thump and a groan from the living room.

"Blaaim?" I called out through a mouth-full of toothpaste. I tried to crane my neck to see what was happening through the mirror. I spat into the sink and went to see what Blaine was up to. I could only imagine how bad a headache he had as I came into the living room. The smells of warm bread and stale bedspreads warped together into the scent of late morning. However, the expected scene of a hungover Blaine curled up on the floor was not what met me there. The sheets were folded neatly on the slightly dented couch, but Blaine was nowhere to be seen. When I looked though, I found a note perched on top of the folded covers like some inferior little bird.

"I'm so, so sorry –Blaine"

"That little shit," I said under my breath.


	3. Chapter 3

Some time had passed since the incident, but it was far from forgotten. I couldn't get what he had said that night out of my head, and how imbecilic I was to let my thoughts get carried away. Kurt Hummel wasn't one to get flustered by one drunken night, I thought to myself… And felt like even more of an idiot. Who makes up movie catch phrases like _that_ for himself? As I walked into the room, a familiar and warming sight met my eyes. The ground was littered with scraps of fabric and sketches and the smell of snipped threads filled the air. The walls were wallpapered and pinned with drawings- the chaos of woolly lines forming an abstract sort of art in it's own, I've always thought. People were sprawled on the floor – there was no furniture in this studio except for the mannequins that hung around some of the corners like this was some cool hangout. It was a cool hangout, I mused to myself.

"Hummel, you're late,"

"Oh, shut up, Eddie," I said to one of the specimens on the ground. Eden and I had become friends almost immediately after I came here. She had a sort of strength that surrounded her, not like armour at all, but more like a coating of… courage? Oh, Mr. Hummel, aren't you especially poetic today, I said to myself before adding to Eden; "It's not like we're in high school anymore."

"Yes, but you just missed the most riveting talk about cutting hemlines and such," She replied, her misty turquoise eyes widening as she nodded like she was explaining quantum physics to a small child.

"And such?" I sat down beside her and hauled out my big book of fashion sketches. My pride and joy.

"Well, you didn't expect me to listen, did you?" I laughed. We started ruffling through some designs and fabrics, briefings and updates on assignments.

"I see you dyed your hair for the fourth time this month," I said through a mouthful of pins, eyeing up a draping on a mannequin. I couldn't help but notice the ends of her shortly cut bleach blonde hair had suddenly decided to turn blue. It looked nice. But I couldn't give her the satisfaction of telling her that.

"And what of it? You love it," She said, far from innocently, meeting my gaze from her position on the floor as she was cutting a length of linen for the blouse she was making.

"It's bad for your hair…" I started half-heartedly.

"Oh, don't start. You're just as bad as my mother," She growled and I snorted.

"Shush," She said, a smile hooking up the side of her mouth. We worked like that for a while, content in each other's company. We were by far the most conversational of design partners in the room, but also the best team, and we certainly didn't slack. That's what I didn't get about high school. The teachers always had this linear way of deciding that if you were talking, you couldn't work. I am Kurt Hummel! The ways I work are, if in teams, constant chattering, or if alone, loud music! My thoughts wandered as we fell into silence, and I put on a playlist from my iPod. My work had to be done by the end of the term, but I didn't mind. One of the many things I learnt from my dad was that no amount of work is too much if you enjoy doing it. And I enjoyed fashion; anyone could see that from my wardrobe. I found my thoughts swimming in a sea of soft fuzzy sweaters as I almost absent-mindedly tailored a sunset coloured dress. Some people say I have too many sweaters. I should have given Blaine one before he left; he still had his clothes on from the night before. He would have looked good in that steel blue one that buttons up. Or maybe that chestnut one, it would have matched his eyes.

"You look dreamy," Eddie's voice cuts through my thoughts and I look to see she's got one of my earphones pinched between colourfully painted nails, her immaculate eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Is there something I don't know about? Or should I say… Someone?" Her voice heightened at the end. Way too smart for her own good.

"No," I told her, grabbing my headphone back but just slinging it over my shoulder instead of putting it back in. "Go and make your linen shirt, woman," I said, pushing her away playfully with my hip. I was telling the truth, anyway. Wasn't I?

"What did you think I was thinking about?" I asked her cautiously.

"Inception!" She whispered dramatically.

"Eden, seriously. I'm curious. You know, I bet scientists would pay to try and figure out how that brain of yours works. I'd sure like to know," Eden ignored my second comment and simply replied with:

"I don't know… The look on your face just looked familiar," Familiar? What was that supposed to mean? But I let it drop. I didn't want her getting any ideas.


	4. Chapter 4

"… and then he totally cut me off! Kicked me out!" Eden told me, her arms waving around manically. We were at our favourite coffee place around the corner of our apartment we shared. The soft hum of people talking and sipping on their coffees made the pop music on the radio sound less obnoxious and more soothing. That added to the biting cold outside made this place feel more comforting than any home to Eden and I.

"Kurt!" I felt Eden's icy fingertips drum across the back of my hand rested on the table as she hissed my name. I looked up from my warm frothy drink to see Eddie's eyes fixed on something positioned past my shoulder.

"Eden, what the …" I turned around. "H-hhholy shit!" I hissed, expression probably identical to Eden's. "Quick, pretend you don't exist!" I said hurridly, and did the same, my hand cupped around the side of my face that was facing Rachel Berry.

"What is she_ doing_ here?" My table partner whispered. I didn't answer, my eyes fixed on the devil with a smooth brunette fringe as she ordered her extra-complicated coffee.

"We've got to get out of here," I told Eden, grabbing her slender hand and pulling her past the counter and out into the cold New York air. "What the hell was that?" I exclaimed once we were free out of earshot. The fog coming from my warm breath looked like I was about to breath fire. Suddenly Eddie started laughing. She clutched her midsection and stumbled, her doc martens scuffling patterns in the light layer of snow.

"Just what, may I ask, is so funny?" I pulled up my chin, arms crossed. But Eden was way too far over the edge. I ran after her, reaching the corner of the next block before she could answer.

"You… looked like the Queen!" She managed to wheeze out in between giggles. What?

"Wow, thanks, Eddie. Comparing your best friend to an 80-year-old woman. Sometimes I wonder how you have any friends at all!" I couldn't help laughing also.

"No, no, no, no. No! It wasn't that. Just the expression on your face! It was like you just saw your crown jewels being stolen or something! Or your corgis being fed the wrong kind of kibble," She wiped her hands across her face, smearing hot tears on her rosy cheeks. I snorted. I stalked over to where she was standing on the street. Her eyebrows rose suddenly, but she wasn't quick enough. I pulled her woolen hat down over her eyes and pushed her down into a pile of crumbled snow. Her scream was cut off by her sudden impact with the cushioned ground. It was my turn to laugh, and I ran away through toward the gates of Central Park.

"Phew." I fell backward sideways onto the armchair, my legs folded over the armrest. "Winter's not so bad, I wonder why people complain so much," I said, my voice gravelly from shouting.

"Yeah," Eddie agreed, strangely twisted on the couch, her soft dark blue trench fluffed up around her. "I mean, all those businessmen, you know? So sour, all they need is a good snowball fight to cheer them up," Her leg was outstretched towards the ceiling as she was scrabbling to untie her laces with her still-numb fingers. I started undoing my own shoes after taking off my heavy winter jacket. Suddenly, I realized something.

"Oh, shit, Eden!" I said, alarm in my voice.

"What?" She said, a grin still on her face, her elbows holding her upper body up and her boot halfway off her foot.

"I think I must have left my phone at the coffee house," I told her, sitting upright in the chair, my aching bruises from projectile snow forgotten.


	5. Chapter 5

She was sitting there in the coffee shop still. At _our_ table! Everything she did now angered me beyond reason. I groaned and forced myself through the swinging glass door. I walked down through the aisle of coffee-stained tables. I looked over to where Rachel Berry was sitting, looking at something small wrapped in her manicured hands as the pure snowy sunlight glistened against her immaculately clean hair. What was I going to say? I couldn't see my phone anywhere at the table. I was just about to ask the man at the counter if anyone had found a phone, but it was too late. She saw me, and I saw the recognition in her eyes. How could she not recognize me? I asked myself stupidly as I put on a fake smile and walked over to her. She is many things, but I do not imagine her as the kind of person who could take someone's dreams and forget their face.

"Heeeyy! Kurt! I haven't seen you in so long!" She stood up and flung her arms around me. At first I didn't want to hug her back. But standing there would just be awkward, and the familiar scent of her frangipani shampoo made me give in.

"Hi," I said awkwardly as we came apart. She still had her hands on my shoulders and pushed me gently on the seat opposite her.

"Guess what? NYADA is so much cooler than you would have ever imagined, Kurt! Oh, it's just wonderful, I just feel so at home there, and I swear, the choreographers really like me, which helps. You know, there are some people there that I really don't know how they got in! Just the other day…" Rachel kept ranting on about her "just fabulous" life and how her two dads were just "so proud"! I tried to keep my composure on the outside, but on the inside, her perfectly glamorous smile broke my heart. I deserved that happiness! That was supposed to be _my_ life, not hers. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Rachel, Rachel, listen," I grabbed her animated hands and brought them together with mine on the table. "My friend and I were sitting here before and I think I left my phone. Have you seen it?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure! Look, I have it right here!" She pulled my phone out from the inside pocket of her unbuttoned jacket. What? That was the thing she was looking at before I came over to talk to her? She looked through my phone and kept it inside her jacket? What was she going to do with it? What did she see on my phone?

"Th-thanks, Rachel," I said, trying to keep my anger internalized. My cooped up anger from the NYADA auditions, my anger that she would go as far as to go into my personal belongings. She kept talking as if nothing happened. I _had_ to get out of there. My emotions threatened to eat my alive.

"Oh, hi! Excuse me," I didn't even notice the presence behind me until it spoke. I turned to see a smiling red-nosed Blaine Anderson behind me.

"Hi Blaine! I was just telling Kurt about how those Broadway auditions went. Of course, you know, it was just dream-like! I'm so in love with New York," She said dramatically. Broadway auditions? I must have zoned out.

"Sorry, Rachel, I've got to drag Kurt away, we were just going something, I was waiting outside," Now that was an outright lie. Was he trying to help me? He hadn't talked to me since he crashed on my couch and suddenly he's saving me from Rachel Berry? I decided to play along.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that! I knew you'd be waiting in the cold! Thanks for the phone, Rachel. I owe you one! Bye!" And we walked as quick as we could without running. Blaine just came in there after he hadn't replied my texts for almost two weeks. What was I supposed to think? I looked over at Blaine. We were still walking as if this was all planned. We couldn't be too sure that Rachel wasn't still watching. His dark curly hair flopped over her forehead as he looked at his feet slushing in the same snow as I did this morning. His hands were in his pockets, his scarf slowly unwrapping from his neck at each heavy footfall. Maybe he did it from sympathy? I saw him and Rachel at the party. It definitely didn't look like they were both completely in it. I felt bad assuming, but it seemed that Rachel dumped him. She was awfully happy at the coffee place, though. There was more to this than I thought.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine walked me home that night. I remember clearly the sounds of the far away traffic and the buzzing of the flickering streetlights. I tried to convince myself that the silence wasn't awkward, but strange tension between us was unmistakable. Shortly after we left the scene of the drama, snow started falling again – flakes swirling around us like wisps of fragmented fog. I looked over at Blaine again as snow flakes gently settled on the shoulders of our winter coats.

"Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes," Blaine sung under his breath and smiled weakly at me.

"Like the song," I replied into the cold, noiseless night air.

"Like the song," He repeated with a soft chuckle. We didn't say much more for the whole walk back, but the tension eased a little after Blaine's attempt to break the ice. As we came to the door of my building, I turned back to Blaine before opening the door. His hair was lightly crystalled with flecks of snow, making his thick, dark lashes stand out even more against the pure white backdrop of the street.

"Blaine… Thanks for, uh, what you did in there," I attempted.

"No problem," His eyes crinkled a little as he smiled, his brows handsomely shadowing his eyes. I could see a faint reflection of myself in his eyes – an image of me, floating on the brink of a decision, floating in those dusky, glistening eyes. I was caught off-guard, and the silence was just a little too long.

"So, uh, I guess I should… go," I stumbled through the sentence and hastily turned the knob. I started to go in, halfway over the threshold when Blaine suddenly called from the bottom of my stoop.

"Kurt!"

"Yes?" I called back hopefully, rubbing my reddened nose on the sleeve of my jumper before turning around. Our eyes met and I tried to focus. The sight looked so poetic, a dark, lonely man standing in a world of flawless white. The wind started to pick up, and whirls of snow getting into the building, like waves lapping onto a shore. Eventually, Blaine sighed.

"Sleep well, Kurt," he said with an awkward flick of his hand. And he was gone. I got through the door, finally, and leaned against it, my head resting against the rosy-coloured glass panel. I let out all the air in my lungs, imagining the hazy cloud it would be if I were still outside… If I was still with Blaine. My thoughts were interrupted by the light sound of footsteps coming down the stairs opposite me.

"Did you get your phone in the end?" Eden's voice spoke inquisitively.

"Yeah," I answered half-heartedly as I passed her on the stairs.

"You've been an away for quite a while," She called after me as she followed me towards the warm of our apartment.

"Yeah," I told her, halting at the opening of the main room. I closed my eyes and breathed in luxuriously, glad to be home after a long day. I turned and opened my eyes to see Eden standing in front of me, her hands on her hips, her gaze placed on me disapprovingly.

"Is it just me, or are you less conversational than usual?" I smiled.

"Boy, have I got a story for you."

Blaine's footsteps crunched loudly against the snow-packed pavement. As the wind howled in the distance, he couldn't help but feel like he was going the wrong way. He turned around and looked the way he came. A trail of footsteps followed him through the slush of the sidewalk. It was starting to get colder as the night settled in, and his teeth chattered. Internal conflict raged his mind as he turned away again. His breath started becoming ragged. He felt unfinished. There was something missing. He kicked the ground furiously, splatters of muddy sleet spraying over his boots. What was he to do? He wanted to tell Kurt so badly… but what if he just laughed at him? Blaine couldn't handle that. Not after everything else. He collapsed against the side of a rough brick building and slid down until his heels met the seat of his trousers. He stared into the night, seeking through the stars in the sky. He felt like he was staring into forever**...** the heavens above him in all their weightlessness. Eventually, he realized he was holding his breath and exhaled heavily, letting a small, broken sound escape his lips. He wondered if Kurt was in bed by now. He remembered his face when he was standing in the doorway, soft mouth slightly parted, with rosy cheeks Blaine wished he could warm. He thought about Kurt's glistening blue eyes smiling at him, and his heart skipped a beat just at the memory. Yet these memories felt more like dreams than reality**...** a hazy version of the truth. He could never touch that mouth, run his fingers through that hair …Not without having someone to answer to. He ducked his head and rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the freezing cold of his nose and the slight dampness in his eyes. He looked up, sniffing, and stood. He felt unsteady on his feet, but he turned back toward where Kurt's apartment building stood. He forced his legs to walk him back, feeling the winter clawing at his wet cheeks. His eyes searched for every lamppost, every will-o-the-wisp illuminating the way as the foggy snow surrounded him. He could hardly see two feet in front of him, but he knew he was going the right way, as there were three pairs of footsteps. Two of them were going in the right direction, together. The other looked lonely as it travelled into cold oblivion. Yes, he knew he was going the right way.


	7. Chapter 7

"…he looked like he was going to say something, you know? But then he just said 'sleep well' or something," I ended, frustrated. Eden stayed silent, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"You have your thinking face on," I told her, anxious to see what she would make of these strange occurrences.

"Yeah," She said, echoing my words from just before. However, whatever Eden was going to say was cut off by a knock at the door.

"Oh my god, déjà vu," I said, my heart in my throat. "It couldn't be Blaine again, could it?"

"At least not drunk, he hasn't had enough time to do that since you last saw him," Eden quipped nervously. I sent her a thankful glance and pushed her shoulder, gesturing for her to hide in her room or something. I had to do this alone. As I went to open the door, I paused, my hand rested on the cold doorknob. I took a deep breath and opened it.

Eden sat awkwardly on her bed, one leg tucked underneath her and her ear against the wall. Her body was twisted uncomfortably, but she didn't notice as her full attention was on the noise coming from Kurt's room. She had missed the start of the conversation, the front door being too far out of range for her to listen in without drawing attention to herself. But then, it seemed, Kurt decided to do her a small favour. She heard a muffled agreement to bring the conversation into Kurt's bedroom. It seemed a confession was about to surface. _Too right, _Eddie thought to herself. She saw Kurt's inner turmoil through out the last week, and couldn't help feeling slightly hostile toward the dark haired man she hardly knew. Of course, she had _heard_ a lot about him, especially after the Rachel incident this afternoon. Sounds started creeping through the wall more clearly as she heard the door to Kurt's room click shut. With bated breath, she tried to stay as quiet as she could. She didn't want to miss a thing. What met her ears was a silence that seemed to hang over them like a searching bird of prey. Then, when the tension seemed almost too hard to bear, she heard the muffled voice of Blaine.

"Kurt… I'd just like to say that I'm really sorry for… barging in on you that night," He started off awkwardly. He sat with his hands clasped as he spoke, eyes refusing to meet mine.

"I know," I said quickly. "The note, remember? But I know that's not why you're here, so why don't we skip the pleasantries?" My voice wasn't aggressive, but sharp enough to bring Blaine to his wits. I couldn't help but feel entitled to an explanation. The guy just kept disappearing on me.

"Umm… Well, this isn't easy, but… I'm…" There was a pained sigh. "I'm gay, Kurt." My eyebrows shot up, and it was all I could do to keep myself from gasping. "Before you say anything… I'm sorry for not telling you. I know we're friends and friends aren't supposed to keep secrets from each other…" Blaine said painfully. Suddenly, I felt a stab of sympathy for him, and tried to compose my features.

"I'm… I… What about Rachel?" I eventually asked. To my surprise, Blaine just laughed softly.

"Rachel was my Dad's plan." Blaine spoke more easily now. He was still looking at the floor, but there was an ease to his body language that made me relax a bit more as well. Despite this new found ease, his eyes were still searching with a furrow in his brow.

"Your dad?" I prompted, after a short silence.

"Yeah, my dad… He doesn't take kindly to homosexuals," Blaine said sparingly. "It was his condition to not… disowning me… To at least _pretend _to be straight," He chose his words carefully and his tone of voice sounded almost interested. As if this was the first time that he really realized how strange this all was. I could see his eyes staring at the fibers in the carpet, in an attempt to concentrate on what he was trying to say. His usually steady hands were shaking a little, and his shoes shuffled on the carpet.

"That's terrible," I offered quietly.

"Yeah, well, I asked for it," Came the soft reply.

"No! No, of course you didn't. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault." I tried to comfort. I knew I got lucky with my father, and couldn't imagine having _everyone_ against you, even your family. "So… Your dad _hired_ Rachel to be your pretend girlfriend?" Blaine snorted in response.

"More or less, yeah… The worst part is that I actually like Rachel!" He said, exasperated. In his attempt not to cry, he was almost laughing. I tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, but my fingers just wavered through the air without hitting home as Blaine rubbed his hands up and down his face. He rested there, his closed eyes resting on his palms.

"So that drunken night…" I pieced things together.

"That's what I really wanted to apologize about…"

"You have apologized enough times… thanks," I interrupted softly.

"Yeah, I suppose I have. I still don't know what I did that night, though. Kurt? Could you tell me something?"

"S-sure," I said, uneasy. There were squeaks coming from the bed as he repositioned himself, one leg bent across the bed and the other swinging over his ankle.

"Did I do anything that night that would compromise our friendship in any way?" Blaine asked, having regained control of his voice. He was leaned in; his torso bent forward and his eyes looking up at me almost pleadingly. I needed no pause for thought.

"No, of course not," I answered, surely and definitely. Blaine was not only my friend, but now a respected one too. I curiously and silently wondered if his father beat him.

"Well… I'm glad," He said, half laughingly. "I quite like you," The girl on the other side of the thin wall screamed internally. There was a silence that could have ripped her apart had it not been for the breathy response,

"Likewise," She could hear the smile in his voice. Suddenly, complete approval of Blaine was earned. If he made Kurt happy, Eden was happy. Then, though, she felt almost intrusive. She heard another squeaky complaint coming from the bed springs and the voices trailed away. She was ready to withdraw her ear when she heard a lamentable sigh.

"I'd better go," Came the low, suddenly rough voice, followed by calm footsteps on the wooden floor. The door to Kurt's bedroom swung open, and clicked shut. Later, Eden could faintly hear the front door thud shut too. Just like that. Blaine Anderson had disappeared once more. All the muscles that had been tensed through out this relay suddenly collapsed, her face smeared against the wall. A final, forlorn voice came from the other side of the wall.

"Sleep well."


End file.
